


The Scarecrow Slayer

by kryptidkat



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen, Humor, Oops, Rated T just for language, a bit of hurt/comfort but not really, brothers being brothers, but they must have left it at the diner this time lol, i just wanted to have fun and write something more dorky and cartoony, it kind of ended up like that but it got sad sometimes too, lots of humor but not crack, party and kobra share one braincell, which usually works out ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptidkat/pseuds/kryptidkat
Summary: The real story behind the famous zone legend, That One Time The Kobra Kid Singlehandedly Defeated One of BL/Ind’s Most Deadly Operatives.(Spoiler alert: In reality, it wasn't nearly as cool as it sounds. Or singlehandedly. Or murdery.)The venom bros are back! Brace yourself for some peak dumbassery and shenanigans, but don’t get whiplash from the angst mixed in.





	1. Newsflash

It was the dead of summer, and at the peak of noon it was too hot to do shit.

Kobra was sprawled lengthwise in one of the diner booths, fanning himself with a handful of paper napkins.

Fun Ghoul and the Girl, unfortunately less affected by the heat, were having a karaoke-off. The Girl took a bow and jumped down from her table as the final riff of her song on the radio faded out.

Points for enthusiasm, not so much for getting the words right. Kobra scrawled a 8.5 on one of his napkins and held it up.

“Knock 'em out, Fun.” The Girl high-fived Ghoul as she swapped places with him. She slid into the booth opposite Kobra and snitched one of the crayons. “You next, K.”

“Hard pass,” Kobra said.

“Oh, this one is my jam,” Ghoul grabbed a pepper grinder for a microphone as a familiar beat started up. “Prepared to be vanquished, young lady.”

In the far corner of the room, Jet booed unenthusiastically from behind his magazine.

Kobra was already writing -20 on the next napkin. He contemplated stuffing one in his ears. It was a well-known fact Ghoul was a horrible singer, half-deaf as he was. To make up for it, however, his dance moves were very nearly on par with Party's for sluttiness. It was going to be a long afternoon. 

Ghoul was in the middle of a disturbingly spot-on Bad Romance reenactment performance when the radio let out a high-pitched squeal.

Oblivious, Ghoul continued. “OOoohoohOoohOOH I WANT YOUR LO – “

“Can it, Lady Gaga.” Jet threw his magazine at him.

Hot Chimp’s voice broke through the static.

_Sorry to interrupt your regular programming, tumbleweeds, but I’m getting reports of a Scarecrow sighting in Five, heading northeast._

Ghoul froze mid-pose.

_Repeat, Scarecrow sighting in Five, heading northeast._

Kobra started up. “Party’s out there.”

“He what!?”

“Shh!”

_Joys in Four, Five and Six are strongly advised to lay low ‘til the all-clear. Do not approach or engage. If you have information, call in. Stay tuned for updates. Keep your masks on._

Another rush of static, and the message started to loop.

Ghoul set down his pepper grinder, instantly sobered.

Jet let out an exasperated breath. “Nobody tells me anything. Okay. Where’d he go, exactly? Is he with anyone?”

Kobra checked the battery level on the gun at his hip. 74%. The Girl was watching him solemnly. “He was dropping Pony off at Tommy’s.”

“Tommy’s store is in Five,” the Girl said.

Jet looked troubled. “Yes. He’d be well on his way back by now though, Girlie. And Party keeps the radio on. He’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” Kobra holstered his weapon. “But if he’s not here soon – “

Ghoul coughed guiltily.

All heads turned.

“What,” Jet said, “Did you do.”

 “ _I_ didn’t do anything!” Ghoul raised his hands. “I might have been in the middle of trying to improve the reception on the radio when Party insisted on taking the car, that’s all!”

“Are you shitting me?” Kobra snatched up his jacket and was already halfway out the door. He pointed at Ghoul. “I’ll kill you later. I’ll kill Party when I find him. I’m killing both of you.”

“Hey, hang on!”

Kobra did not hang on. He stormed out.

“CAN _ANYONE_ IN THIS DAMN DINER STAY PUT FOR MORE THAN FIVE MINUTES WITHOUT RUNNING OFF WILLY-NILLY INTO THE – ” was the last thing he heard Jet yelling before he kicked his bike into gear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is already finished, so I'll be updating regularly! Enjoy!


	2. Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, the words “what could possibly go wrong” were uttered.

The gas gauge needle was hovering over E by the time Party reached the Dead Pegasus on the inner edge of Six. He pulled off the sandswept highway, rolled to a stop and hopped out.

He poked his head inside the gas station shop. Not a soul in sight.

“Hello?”

Weird.

Party went out and got the fuel pump running. While the tank filled, he rummaged around the back seat cushions.

He walked back in and put a couple of carbons, a can of powerpup, a lighter, and a tarnished Mickey Mouse keychain on the counter. Close enough.

Then he heard a vehicle approaching.

In the eerily vacant shop, the sudden sound was enough to make him wary. He ducked behind a shelf full of tins.

Footsteps. The door bells jangled.

Party crept around the shelving, scanning for a gap in the stacked goods to get a glimpse of the figure.

He ventured around the corner.

And came face to face with –

“Aaah!” Party almost decked Kobra. “Bitch. I thought you were a drac.”

Kobra took a hasty step back. “Don’t _do_ that.”

“The hell are you doing here? You should’ve told me you were going this way, you could’ve hitched a ride with me,” Party said. “Where is everybody?”

Wasting no time, Kobra grabbed Party by the jacket collar and steered him toward the door. “They cleared out cuz _there’s a fucking Scarecrow on patrol_. Which you would know if you turned on your damn radio.”

“A Scarecrow? Where?”

“They’re saying Five, but that was a while ago. We need to leave.”

Party scoffed. “I was there this morning but that’s miles from here, worrywart. What could pos – ”

“Shh!” Kobra shushed him furiously. “Have you learned _anything_ from reading all those comicbooks? You never say, ‘what are the chances’ or ‘we should split up’ and whatever you do, you never, _ever_ say ‘what could possibly go wrong’! Only bad things happen!”

“Oh, now look who’s the superstitious one.”

“I’m not screwing around, we need to be careful!”

“I didn’t say it! You said it!”

“They’re not dracs. You know what those things can do.”

Party did know. Drac patrols were a commonplace occurrence, and while they could be dangerous if you were caught off guard, they usually weren’t that hard to beat in a clap or evade altogether.

Scarecrows, though, weren’t sent out often. When one was, it was never pretty.

Sometimes it seemed to be a retaliatory response to a big raid or sabotage mission a band of joys pulled off. Other times, one would appear seemingly from nowhere, with no specific target, to hunt down whoever it could find.

Scarecrow victims didn’t die. They disappeared.

“Okay,” Party said. “You win. We’ll keep off the highway and take some back roads. Happy?”

“Fine. Let’s get outta here.” Kobra hesitated. “What’s that?”

Party stopped to listen.

It was quiet but unmistakable – the buzz of another approaching motorbike.

They shared a look.

“Naaaah,” said Party.

Kobra starting shoving him toward the door again. “Well, let’s not stick around and find out, go!”

“No time, it’s too close!” Party yanked him down behind the front windows.

The noise grew nearer and abruptly cut off.

They peered over the windowsill.

Though he was bracing himself for the worst, Kobra still wasn’t prepared for the icy chill that shot through him when the white-clad figure dismounted its bike and turned.

The blank smile-masked face had eyes. Human eyes. A predator’s eyes.

Kobra's breath caught in his throat.

Then Party’s mouth was next to his ear. “Back door. Go now,” he murmured.

Kobra gulped and tore himself away. Together they moved quietly back, staying low, and slipped out.

Then they booked it, skidding and slithering down a sandy slope and diving behind the nearest patch of scrub.

“I can’t see it, I’m gonna keep going around,” said Party.

“No! Come _on_!”

“How far are we going to get on foot? I’m not leaving her,” Party insisted. “It’ll move on soon.”

With a resigned growl, Kobra followed him.

Keeping a wide berth, they circled the station, darting from cover to cover. They clambered up a dune and peered cautiously over the top.

The Scarecrow had shouldered an impressively tricked-out gun and was walking over to examine the trans am. This far from the highway, Kobra could see in the thin layer of sand blown over the road that the Scarecrow’s bike tracks matched the car’s.

Another nasty chill ran down Kobra’s spine. It had been following Party.

 “The engine’s still warm, he’ll know we’re close!” he said.

 “In this sun the engine would be warm anyway. We’re good,” Party assured him.

The Scarecrow circled the car.

“Also, the gas pump is still hooked up to the tank,” Kobra added.

“Ah.”

The Scarecrow lifted the hood.

“Oh hell no.” Party reached for his gun.

“He’s out of range, moron!” Kobra wrung Party’s arm behind his back to keep him down as the Scarecrow reached into the trans am and yanked out a handful of wiring. “Stay. Here.”

Party wrenched free with a dirty look, but stayed put.

The Scarecrow approached Kobra’s bike next.

It wouldn’t dare. Kobra couldn’t hold back a noise of indignation. Party clapped a hand over his mouth.

Vehicles satisfactorily out of commission, the Scarecrow ducked inside.

“Shit, did you cover our footprints out back?” Party whispered, hand still clamped on Kobra’s face.

“Did you?” Kobra shot back muffledly, and bit at Party’s hand.

“Ow! Brat.”

“Shut up!”

The Scarecrow was reemerging from the building. It lifted its head to scan the horizon.

They both dropped flat behind the rise and listened, barely breathing.

An engine roared to life again. Within moments, it faded into the distance.

Party shook the sand from his jacket. “Ha. Witch’s luck.”

Kobra cuffed him. “You’re not invincible, you know. You can’t go gallivanting across the zones all the time relying on her blessing or whatever to keep you out of trouble.”

“I don’t have to when you’re around, brother dearest.”

“Get fucked.”


	3. Stranded

Once out of sight of the station, the Scarecrow killed its engine and stashed the bike behind a rock. Slinging its gun over its shoulder, it set off at a mechanical pace on foot back the way it came.

Stealth was the key now. The owners of the vehicles couldn’t have been far when it had arrived. Once they poked their filthy heads out from whatever hole they were cowering in, with them off-guard and unable to make a quick getaway it could pick them off at its leisure.

Its prediction was correct – as it approached it could hear voices already. Two of them. Not a bad bounty.

The Scarecrow allowed itself a small smile behind its mask. It skirted the station, drawing to a halt at the corner and stepping back into the shadow of the building.

It peered around the edge of the wall.

One short, one tall. Red hair, yellow hair. Their backs were to him as they surveyed the damage it had done to the graffitied car.

“I’ll pull some wires out of him,” the tall one seethed, throwing down a toolbag. “See how he likes it.”

“Bastard,” the other agreed. Slowly the Scarecrow raised the gun and trained its sights between the short rebel’s shoulderblades.

“This is, uh, not good,” the tall one was saying. It ducked out from under the hood. “By the time we get her fixed I’m guessing we won’t get back before dark.”

“The others know where we are, by any chance?”

The Scarecrow’s finger froze on the trigger.

“They couldn’t pick us up anyway, dumbass, we have both vehicles.”

“Oh. Right. Let’s get to it, then.”

“Right.” The tall one accepted a tool from the short one and got to work, muttering an impressive string of curses under his breath.

Others. The Scarecrow lowered its weapon, calculating. There were at least two more of them, somewhere. Should it take a guaranteed bounty now, or let these desert rats lead it toward the possibility of a truly impressive score?

The decision was an easy one.

The Scarecrow melted further back into the shadows. Even with the Patience coursing through its bloodstream, it was going to be a long afternoon.

~~~~~

The desert shadows stretched long under the red sky. 

Party picked up a leftover piece of wiring and scrutinized it doubtfully. “Hope this one wasn’t important.”

Kobra wiped his hands off with a rag. “Should run. Try it again.” 

“That’s what you said the last seventeen thousand times,” Party grumbled, but he reached in the driver’s window and turned the key.

She sputtered, coughed...and settled into a somewhat steady purr.

“Sweet.”

“Thank Destroya. About time.” Kobra slammed the hood down. He walked around to give a final tug to the ropes trussing his decommissioned bike to the back of the car. “Should get us to the diner, anyways...”

Party swung into the driver’s seat. “Well?”

Kobra was looking over his shoulder. “Thought I heard something.”

“Just get in.”

Kobra shook his head. He took shotgun, and Party stepped on the gas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lowkey forgot this chapter existed haha. It turned out real short too?? I should've stuck it onto the end the previous one probably, oops. 
> 
> Longer chapter coming up soon!


	4. Memories

The constant hum of the engine, unbroken in the absence of his usual music station, was becoming hypnotic.

At least the headlights were functional. The yellow beams cut through swarms of moths as Party took the curves as fast as he dared.

He glanced over; in the seat beside him Kobra was curled up into himself, long limbs and all, watching the desert go by in his side window.

He looked about as worn out as Party felt.

“I’m, uh, glad you came out here, K,” Party said. “Probably saved my hide.”

Kobra shrugged one shoulder. “My turn to track down your sorry ass for a change, anyway.”

They drove on in silence for a bit. The moon was rising now, a curve of silver peeking over the dunes.

Kobra said, “You ever think about what we’d be doing right now? If we were still in the city?”

Always Kobra with the morbid questions. Party kept his voice casual. “I try not to.”

The only thing Party was grateful for about their time in the city was that they’d never separated him and his brother. Not even after the incident with their parents, which was a small miracle in itself. They had placed him and his brother in the dorm for city wards instead of transferring them to other family units. He didn’t know why.

The worst part was the officials never told them how they’d died. _Classified_ , the lady who appeared at their door had said, with a careful, rehearsed sympathy that made his skin crawl.

But neither of them had gotten the chance to think too much about it. The extra pills they were administered made sure of that.

Even for Party, two years older than Kobra, their parents didn’t really have faces anymore. They were ghosts. Hair colors, scents, feelings. Smiles, real ones.

Party was no stranger to many sorts of loneliness, but the kind that struck him now was foreign. The road in front of him stretched to eternity, empty. Even his brother, sitting right next to him, suddenly felt miles away. The desolation was so keen he almost laughed sharply from the pain of it.

How could he feel such loss for something he couldn’t even probably remember? 

“I miss mom.” The words escaped Party without permission. He did laugh, then – a short, harsh laugh, a too-late attempt to turn it into a joke. He hoped Kobra would laugh too, or say something, anything. 

The car remained painfully silent.

Party swerved a little to avoid a jackrabbit that leapt into the road. Kobra was probably sorry he’d asked, and Party was sorrier for having said anything. Stupid.

“They disappeared,” Kobra said then **.** “Maybe…”

“The fuckers murdered them.” Party was sure of it. What for, he didn’t know. Did it matter? He gripped the wheel harder. “And doped us up so we wouldn’t ask questions.”

He could almost taste the pills now, the bitter flavor of apathy.

“They _told_ us they died,” Kobra ventured, perking up a little. “How do you know they aren’t still – ”

 “They took me there, okay?” Party snarled. Kobra and his fucking theories could fuck off. “I saw them.”

Kobra’s face went blank.

Party felt a sting of remorse. He’d never had the heart to tell him that. For all Kobra knew, when Party had told him the news he’d just been repeating what he himself had been told.

He pushed away the memory of harsh fluorescent light, the sharp morgue smell of disinfectant, the body bags on steel tables.

“They didn’t take you,” he said quieter. As a sort of apology. “You were just a kid.”

Kobra thought about that for a minute. His expression softened a little.

 “So were you,” he said.

Party didn’t know what to say to that. He kept his eyes on the road.

“That’s fucked up,” said Kobra. “They had ID chips like everybody else, they knew exactly who they were. It wasn’t like they needed you to identify them.”

Party shrugged. “Probably meant it as some kind of warning.”

“A warning.”

“Yeah. I dunno.” They came to a hill and Party shifted gears. “It’s weird, what I remember from before that. They used to take a lot of trips. Never said where they were going.”

The road leveled out again. Party eased up on the gas a little.

“There were strangers at our house a lot when we were little,” Kobra said. “Like, other citizens.”

“You remember that?”

“Sorta, yeah. Said they were just friends of the family passing through or whatever. It was never the same people, though. Came at night, gone by morning.”

Too many unanswered questions. Not that any of it was important now.

“I wonder…” Party trailed off.

“What.”

“Nothing. It’s just, I always wondered if they named you after him.” Party had always dismissed the thought. They’d both had new names for so long that it didn’t really matter. Besides, there were about a million joys who’d named themselves after the legendary rebel figure. It was hardly original, out here.

“Who?”

“You know.”

Kobra didn’t say anything, but the way he pulled his jacket tighter around himself somehow confirmed Party’s suspicion he had wondered the same thing before, too.

And Party knew it was a senseless hope  – a futile attempt to make sense of it all, to create a narrative out of the illogical pieces of their past – but he couldn’t help but think it had been a message, somehow. For both of them, right under BL/Ind’s noses. _Get out. Get your brother out. You weren’t meant for this._

Then Kobra did that little snort-laugh thing he did. “Damn. No wonder the Batts hated me.”

That got a half smile out of Party. “Oh trust me,” he assured Kobra. “They’d’ve hated a punk like you regardless.”

The silence turned melancholy again.

“You think they tried to leave?” Kobra said.

_Was that how they died,_ Party knew Kobra meant. But no, that didn’t make sense. They wouldn’t have attempted an escape, would they? Not without their family, their own children.  

Then the pieces clicked into place.

“They were getting others out,” Party said slowly. “They must’ve been. I think...I think that’s why they chose to stay.”

Maybe if they _had_ left the City, they would still be alive.

Then how many others would still be trapped there, living an artificial non-life, trapped in the corporation? How many joys running in the zones today owed their freedom to them?

It dawned on Party that they were more heroes than he himself would ever be.

He didn’t know what to do with that thought.

“Party?” Kobra’s voice snapped him out of his rumination.

“Hm.”

 “I think they would’ve been glad to know we made it out.” Kobra scooted over so he could rest his head on Party’s shoulder.

_Kuddle Kid,_ Party thought absently, though he was secretly grateful for his warmth. He’d never gotten used to how cold it got out here at night. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You ever write to them?”

It’d never occurred to Party. They took the Girl to the Mailbox often, but he had never posted any letters to the dead himself.

“Nah,” he admitted.

Kobra sighed drowsily. “We could.”

Witch bless him. Party’s eyes prickled without warning. The road grew blurry and he bit his lip. Kobra could’ve barely remembered mom and dad. But the realization that he was trying to comfort him, in his own matter-of-fact way, threatened to unravel Party entirely.

“Sure we could,” he managed to say. Once they got safely out of this mess, anyhow. “We have a long ride yet. Sleep if you can.”

Kobra nestled more comfortably into Party’s shoulder, and the hollow ache in Party’s chest eased a little.

~~~~

After a painfully dreary day lying in wait and listening to the vermin bicker, the Scarecrow definitely regretted sabotaging the car. But they were finally on the move.

From a hilltop the operative watched the car weave on a narrow road around the dunes. Like a tiny model in a tactical strategy sandbox. 

The rebels had abandoned the old interstate in lieu of a longer, winding route, but they had been traveling for nearly two hours. Surely they were nearing their destination.

The Scarecrow opened a capsule from its pocket and tossed back a handful of medications. It adjusted its night vision goggles and started the bike up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a melancholy interlude. I have no real excuse for throwing this scene into this particular story; it was just something I wanted to write, and heck if it properly fits in or not. (Some people write heavy-handed exposition, I write heavy-handed backstory headcanons lol.)
> 
> I blame Kobra anyway, who definitely has a bad habit of constantly blurting out vaguely disturbing questions that appear to have nothing to do with anything. (It ~sort of~ ties in to something I added later on in this fic, I promise.)


	5. A Bump in the Night

A violent jerk knocked Kobra out of his doze. His eyes flew open.

They’d stopped. It was quiet except for the hum of the insects in the desert around them. “Party?”

Party killed the headlights. His hands were shaking. “I saw it, I saw it, it’s behind us.”

Kobra’s mouth went dry. “You sure?”

“I saw it in the rearview mirror, up there silhouetted against the moon, then it disappeared again.”

“What the hell, then why did you stop?!”

“It was all I could think of, I waited til we were around the bend so it would pass us, it shouldn’t have seen us,” Party gasped. “I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

Kobra looked around. In the dim silvery moonlight he could see Party had gotten them a good distance from the road and parked behind a clump of bushes. “Dude, breathe. You did good.”

“How – did it – find – ”

“Listen, we’re safe. It’ll go right by us. Oh my g – watch where you’re pointing that! Put it down.” Kobra wrestled the gun from his brother’s clammy grip. He pressed Party’s palm flat against Party’s chest instead and held it there. “Hey. Do your breathing thing, okay? Remember the breathing?”

Party seemed to hear him. He obediently tried to take a gulp of air.

He wasn’t too far gone then, thank the Witch. It beat Kobra how Party had handled this afternoon’s close call just fine only to have an attack now. They’d become less frequent as more time passed since the Girl’s rescue, but he still got them. Sometimes even when nothing bad was happening. Life was a bitch that way, he guessed. So Kobra kept his hand over Party’s and counted with him, and did his best to pretend like he wasn’t scared shitless himself.

It was several minutes before Party’s ribcage began rising and falling at a steadier pace, but eventually Kobra took away his hand and gave Party’s arm a squeeze. “Good. You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was shaky.

Kobra passed him a canteen of water and busied himself with checking his own gun, giving Party a minute to compose himself. 29%. The Scarecrow could be here any second now. If it had seen them pull over...

“Now what?” Party whispered.

“We wait, I guess.”

They didn’t have to wait long.

Party suddenly reached for his gun again. A few seconds later, Kobra heard it too.

He was starting to hate that sound. He peered through the branches pressed against his window, but he couldn’t see any lights on the road beyond.

A vague shape streaked past, and the motor’s roar began to fade again. No lights. It must have infrared. That wasn’t terrifying at all.

Even so, it hadn’t seen them. Kobra slumped back in his seat. “It’s gone.”

Party let out a quiet sigh and let his head drop down onto the wheel.

“Witch’s luck?” Kobra offered dryly.

His brother coughed out a laugh. “Something like that.”

A wispy cloud rolled over the moon. An owl started hooting in one of the nearby trees. Somewhere in the distance, a pack of coyotes was howling.

Perfectly normal creepy nighttime noises. Kobra holstered his gun.

Now that they'd evaded the Scarecrow maybe they could get back on the highway and be at the diner by morning. Eat some real food and sleep on something actually flat, not a car seat with no leg room. It felt like they had been out here forever. Time in the desert was like that – fluid, illogical, like a magical shifting maze in a crappy high fantasy novel.

This route probably connected back with the interstate somewhere nearby. Though you never knew when a bit of road would be impassable because the sand had covered–

Kobra sat up abruptly. A jolt of adrenaline sent his nerves jangling again. Was that...?

It was coming back.

Party lifted his head. “The tracks. Kobra, the tracks. The sand.”

“I know.” Kobra realized he had been coming to that conclusion himself.

The conclusion that the Scarecrow must have seen their tire tracks – or rather, not seen them. And that it would be able to tell exactly where they had gone off-road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O Crap i keep forgetting i had all these itty bitty chapters in here! The funny one is up next guys so tune in XD


	6. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here comes the peak dumbassery. Klutzy Kid and Party Panic at their finest. 
> 
> In Party’s defense, adrenaline is one heck of a drug.

Party fumbled around for the keys. “I’m an idiot!”

“Just drive!”

“No. Wait, no, I can fix this!” Party dived at him.

“Get off me, what’re you doing!”

Party shoved him aside. “Glove box, glove box!” He yanked it open and brandished one of Fun Ghoul’s grenades. “For emergencies.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Yup!” Juggling the keys and the grenade, Party managed to unlatch the roof on his side of the car, and tossed the panel into the backseat.

The roar of the approaching bike was getting louder. Kobra caught a flash of movement out on the road. “Now! Do it now! Then _drive!_ ”

Party yanked out the pin, drew back his arm and threw.

Kobra clapped his hands over his ears.

Nothing.

He cautiously removed one hand.

Party said, “Um.”

“What.” Kobra scrambled up beside him, eyes straining to see through the darkness. “What, what?”

“The keys.” Party was just standing there, not moving.

Kobra looked at him wildly. “Why the devil – ”

The live grenade was still in Party’s left hand.

And the horror sank in.

“You threw the keys.”

“Yup.”

“You THREW the KEYS?!”

The moon broke through the clouds. The figure was halted on the road mere yards away. Its head turned in their direction.

This had to be a nightmare.

“Don’t just stand there!” Fueled by sheer panic, Kobra snatched the grenade from Party, hurled it and ducked down.

_Bang_.

“Did you get it?”

“I don’t know!”

They fell over each other to scramble out of the car. Ears ringing, Kobra yanked his gun up and started firing blindly.

“We have to get closer!” Party appeared at his elbow. “Go, go!”

They ran together, sending a hail of laserfire toward the cloud of smoke.

Something caught on Kobra’s boot. He went sprawling into –

“Motherfucker!” he yelped, a good two octaves higher than normal.

Party threw himself down next to him, still firing. “Get up! What’d you do now?”

Kobra rolled out of the cactus patch, wincing. “Oh, what _I_ did!”

“Yeah, what you did!”

“I WASN’T. THE ONE. WHO YEETED. THE DAMN. KEYS!”

Kobra’s outburst bounced off the valley walls, echoing.

And, quite abruptly, the desert around them went empty and still again.

The foreboding presence was gone. Kobra raised his head. “Is it...?”

Party’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Cover me.” He got to his feet and crept toward the road.

“Wait, I can’t find my – ” Kobra spotted his weapon a few feet away. He snatched it up.

The smoke was dissipating, revealing...

An empty road.

No Scarecrow. No debris.

Party crouched down and picked up the keys from the pavement where they had landed. He paused experimentally, like he was half-expecting to be gunned down where he stood.

Still nothing happened. He turned and held them up for Kobra to see.

_What the hell_ , Party mouthed at him.

What the hell, indeed.


	7. Don't Let Them Take You Alive

“This is, without a doubt, the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had to do for you,” Party said, yanking another cactus needle out of the backside of his brother’s pants.

“Ow,” went Kobra, for the billionth time.

“Quit whining, pansy. The faster you do it, the less it hurts.”

“I – really – don’t think that’s how it works.”

Party plucked another spine and clicked off his flashlight. “Last one.”

“Finally.” Kobra rolled up off his stomach. “Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, asshole.”

“That’s a funny way of pronouncing ‘thank you,’” Party said loftily. “With these precise hands, I could start up a shop. Ya know, apostrophe. Stick fancy cacti on people’s rear ends and make a shitload of carbons.”

“Acupuncture.” Kobra gingerly patted the affected area, checking for any spikes Party might have missed.

“Whatever. You’re welcome.” Party stood. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Kobra made a grab for his keys.  “Gimme. I don’t trust you with those.”

“It’s my car, porcupine butt!”

“You think I give a shit, O mighty grenade wielder?”

Touché. Party relinquished the keys. Kobra was never going to let him forget about that, was he. He made a mental note to swear him to secrecy later. Imagine what that story would do to his reputation.

They got in the car and Party slid down in his seat. Maybe it was just as well Kobra offered to drive. His adrenaline high was definitely gone, and he was exhausted.

Kobra put the keys in the ignition, but he didn’t start the engine.

“It didn’t even shoot at us,” he said.

“Hm?”

“The Scarecrow. It looked right at me.”

Party rubbed a hand over his face. What was Kobra going on about now? Could they just go already, please? He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Party. It could’ve had us anytime in the past day.”

Yeah, they’d gotten lucky, so what. Then it struck Party what Kobra was trying to tell him.

It was playing games with them.

Party sucked in a breath. “It doesn’t want us. We’re leading it back to the diner.”

They were trapped.

“We can’t go back,” Kobra said unhappily. “We have to end this.”

 “What are you saying?” Party scoffed. “You wanna, what, kill it?”

“Ye – no. Gah,” Kobra gestured, frustrated. “Aren’t they still…” _People?_

Party wanted to assure him that no, Scarecrows definitely didn’t count, the desert would be a better place for them doing it and good riddance. The words caught in his throat.

The only casualties they’d had a part in were dracs. Shell bodies. Drained, empty. Neither he nor Kobra had ever…

Self-defense or not, Kobra didn’t deserve to get blood on his hands.

But who knew how many joys that monster had ghosted, or worse. It would take all of them, take his kid brother, to a fate worse than –

“Not you,” Party said. “Not you. I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Then Kobra must have seen it in his face. “Whoa, dude. No.”

“It’s going to keep killing people until it gets killed! And if it recognized either of us, what happens when the Batts figure out we didn’t get blown to shit in that explosion? We’re supposed to be dead. The whole desert will be swarming with them. There’ll be hell to pay, and not just for us. ”

Kobra looked away. He didn’t respond for a long minute.

“I thought we were the good guys, Party,” he said in a small voice.

Dammit, he sounded so young. So much like the little kid who had looked at Party like a savior and followed him, trusting blindly, into this shithole to begin with.

“It’s not black and white like that. You know it’s not,” Party said. “It could have killed you.”

“Could have been me.”

_Oh_.

Party’s mouth was already open to argue back. He closed it.

That’s why Kobra had been so uncharacteristically cautious yesterday. Why he had been asking about the City. Why he’d been acting so rattled by all of this. Party silently berated himself for not realizing it sooner.

Nausea twisted his stomach, even though it was years ago that Kobra had told him, that fateful day in the nurse’s stark office. _They’ve been planning to transfer me. To the Scarecrow project. Something in my psych evals._

He saw it sometimes, what the doctors must have seen. The resolve, the sheer stubbornness, the icy exterior that could come over him. The inner drive that spurred him to spend hours attacking his sandbags til they burst, to become one of the zones’ most renowned daredevil derby cyclists, to snap a drac’s neck at arm’s length without flinching if it got too close to one of his gang. They must have seen that ruthless streak in Kobra even then.

But they hadn’t counted on all the rest of him. His dorky, awkward attempts at affection, how gentle and sweet he could be, how excited he’d get about his latest hyperfixation. Everything they couldn’t medicate out of him, all of that was just as much a part of what made him Party’s brother.

What would have happened to Kobra in there?

Kobra knew Party would kill for him, right? If it came to that?

They weren’t like the Batts. At least, he didn’t want to be. But it wasn't about that, not really. Self-defense and all that. It was about living with yourself, after. 

He pushed away the cold doubt in his gut, the nagging feeling that he was putting off the inevitable. Though the city was crueler, the desert was a cruel place, too, and Witch only knew what the future held for any of them. What they might have to do. 

But here and now, they had a hand in their own fate.

Party found himself struck quite unexpectedly by the desperate need to seize the freedom they had to make that choice. While they still could.

“Fuck,” he said, making Kobra blink at him. “Okay. We’re the fucking good guys. Today, anyway.” 

Kobra rewarded him with a tiny smile. “‘kay.”

And Party, foolishly, felt adored all over again.

“Ugh,” he said, and ruffled up his own hair as if to shake off the sudden sentimentality of the situation. “Tell you what. We’ll wait it out here. If we’re not on the move, it’s gonna try again. Come straight to us.” He examined his basic gun model with a frown. “Too bad these don’t have a stun setting.”

Kobra grimaced. “Personally, I’d rather be shot.”

Party barked a laugh. “Same.” But his hand involuntarily strayed up to the bandanna around his neck, and he shivered. He knew Kobra wasn’t really joking. Party, too, would truly prefer that than capture and facing what would follow.

_Don’t let them take you alive._ If this went Costa Rica...

“It’s gun is a stunner,” Kobra said. “I mean, it’s a bounty hunter.”

“Yeah. Ha. All we’d have to do is get his weapon without him shooting us with it first.”

“How?” Kobra sounded dubious. 

Party saw his point. With one car, out in the open, their tactical advantage would be nil. “Uh…improvise?”

“It is going to recognize us,” said Kobra. “Like you said. If it hasn’t already.” 

“Oh. Well.” Party said. “I guess we all have to come back from the dead sometime.” His infamous wicked grin flashed. “Might as well give ’em a show."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t already, you can read the backstory stuff this chapter refers to in The Nightmare Room and Aftermath.
> 
> I tried to write my way out of the lame trope of 'good guys don't kill the bad guys because it's a false moral superiority thing' in this chapter because that's really not what's going on here, so I hope that came through. It's just that they're so goshdarned young in this 'verse still - just kids, really - and are smart enough to realize that they honestly don't need something like that keeping them up at night, too. 
> 
> (Party's right, though - the way most people write 'em they don't really end up staying true heroes by the end of everything, and I can't promise that isn't how I'd write them as older 'joys myself.) 
> 
> As the legend goes, however, the poor Scarecrow was toast, and the bros never bothered to correct the story. Hence the title.


	8. Showdown

The morning light was filtering soft through the windshield and playing with the dust motes in the air by the time Party finally saw a flash of movement on the horizon. He shook Kobra’s shoulder. “We got company.”

Kobra was instantly alert, groping for his weapon.  “Where?”

“Easy. Still a ways off.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Party told him.

Kobra considered briefly. “It sucks.”

“Yes. But if we pull it off…” Party held up a hand for a high-five. (Kobra rolled his eyes like, _here we go again,_ but connected it obligatorily.) “Oh man, he’s gonna get so fired.”

~~~~

The colorful vehicle was still sitting there in plain sight. The Scarecrow dismounted its motorcycle and darted between clumps of sagebrush as swiftly and silently as it could with the fresh burn seared across its leg.

These desert rats were so disappointing. Cocky. Oblivious.

And after the disastrous attempt to flush them out last night, the Scarecrow was ready to cut its losses.

It crouched low and crept behind a bush, the last bit of available cover. It raised the scope to its eye, trying to get an optimal angle through the car’s windows, but something abruptly blocked its view. There was something in the middle of the flat, empty plain between it and the old car.

The Scarecrow jerked away from the scope.

It sized up the figure. Lean. Red jacket. Sunglasses. Face unreadable. Gun in his left hand, hanging casually at his side. Something metallic glinting in his right.

And the Scarecrow suddenly recognized him from the posters.

The Kobra Kid.

The Scarecrow felt a rush of Caution in its veins. That terrorist was dead. Either this rebel was a very good imitation, or…

This was an unexpected development. Though not an unwelcome one.

And if this truly was the Kobra Kid, then the other rebel who had accompanied this one earlier, the one with the blood-red hair, it could have been...

It didn’t quite believe it. Those fools he had been tailing for nearly two days had been on the most wanted list?

Granted, this one seemed different now. Taller, somehow. Menacing. Nonchalant.

The Scarecrow could have shot him right there.

But that was far too obvious a solution. This reeked of a trap.

The killjoy was strolling casually in its direction.

Every muscle tense, keeping its weapon up, the Scarecrow stepped forward to meet him.

~~~~

“It’s your lucky day,” Kobra told the Scarecrow. “The Kobra Kid himself, at your mercy. That’s me, in case you didn’t guess. Hello.”

They circled each other.

He could be facing himself from an alternate timeline right now. How easily their places could have been reversed.

Kobra knew he should be terrified, but he felt like he was watching himself from somewhere far away. It happened sometimes in situations like this. Probably why he was still alive.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t still plenty scared.

He tried not to twitch from the effort of keeping his gun hanging loose in his hand. Knowing Party was covering him from the behind the car was little comfort when he was this close to the figure and its horrible smiling mask.

_Oh, shiny._ He had to account for Party’s absence somehow, deflect suspicion. _Keep talking, Kobra…_

“I assume you’re wondering where my brother is,” he went on conversationally, wracking his brain. The Scarecrow’s silence was creeping him out, making it impossible to think. _Uh…_

“He’s dead,” Kobra lied outrageously, pokerfaced. _Wait, shit, no. Bad excuse, bad excuse._ This was going just fabulously. Too late to change the story now.

Best not to elaborate. “And I’m holding you responsible for that.”

The Scarecrow’s trigger finger tightened ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t.” Kobra held up the metallic object in his hand. “Let me introduce you to a little invention by a friend of mine. An EMP, if you will. Takes out any battery-operated weapon in a mile radius.”

The Scarecrow hesitated.

Kobra gave The Scarecrow his best unnerving smile as he tossed the object away. “Out here in the desert, we settle things like gentlemen. You want the reward for Party Poison’s head? You go through me.”

A hawk screamed in the distance, as if on cue.

_Party, this was the stupidest idea ever, and if I live through this I’m_ really _gonna kill you._

Kobra let his gun drop.

The harsh desert wind whipped at the two of them facing off under the cloudless sky. Kobra’s pulse pounded in his ears.

The Scarecrow cocked its head ever so slightly.

And tossed its own weapon aside.

Kobra exhaled quietly. His had been at 3%, anyway. Now they stood a chance. _Party, you’d better be quick._ His vision narrowed to flashes of neck, joints, fists.

He launched himself at the Scarecrow’s throat.

It blocked his strike. Kobra took a glancing blow to the shoulder. Chopped at its ribs, then swung hard at its creepy smile. It darted backward. Kobra almost lost his footing.

The Scarecrow whipped around and launched into a rapid series of blows. Its movements were brutal, efficient, mechanical. Kobra shifted styles, weaving, dodging, darting in off-rhythm. The Scarecrow snarled and redoubled its attack.

_Okay, this guy is fast_. This was bad. Kobra spun away and lashed out at its injured leg. The Scarecrow stumbled into him. Its wild swing caught Kobra in the side of the head. His ear rang. An elbow rammed into his gut.

They broke apart. Waiting. Watching.

Kobra gulped in a shaky breath, trying to quell the bolt of panic that threatened to shake his focus. He couldn’t read its eyes, couldn’t predict its movements –

The Scarecrow darted forward.

Kobra ducked under one fist and saw the other too late. Ouch. His reaction time was going to shit. _Party, I’m getting my ass kicked over here!_

He shook sweat out of his eyes. Clenched his fists to keep them from shaking. Feinted. Swung again.

Thin air. Kobra staggered forward, brought his arm up too late to block a strike to the ribcage. He gasped. His sunglasses flew from his face. The sudden brightness was blinding.

Now he was mad. No more stalling for Party.

Kobra sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a punch, and blindly threw himself into a roundhouse kick.

His boot landed square on his opponent’s chest. The Scarecrow flew backward and slammed to the ground.

At Party’s feet. About time.

Kobra loomed over the fallen Batt operative, panting. “Welcome to the zones, bitch.”

The Scarecrow’s weapon was in Party’s hands. He fired.

For several heartbeats, the only sound was Kobra’s ragged breathing. Then —

“Wooo! That was badass!” Party launched into a little victory dance.

“It was imbecilic, and next time _you_ get to be the distraction and punching bag,” Kobra grumbled, plopping down ungracefully on the ground and cradling his jaw. “What’re we gonna do with it, anyways?”

“Beats me! I’m sure Fun will have some ideas.”

Kobra squinted at him. “Wouldn’t this’ve been easier if both of us had just put him at gunpoint and told him to drop the damn thing?”

Party stopped. “Oh.” His face fell briefly. Then he grinned again. “Well, anyway, this was way cooler!”

“Unbelievable.” Kobra scowled. “Remind me to make all the plans from now on.”

But Party was too busy falling over himself laughing to listen. “ ‘Settle things like gentlemen!’ ” he howled.

“I was improvising! Fuck off.”

“ ‘Welcome to the zones, bitch.’ Oh my gosh,” Party wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Just wait til the gang hears you took out a Scarecrow with your bare hands!” He caught sight of the ‘EMP’ on the ground and doubled over again. “And an empty tin can!”


	9. Homecoming

Kobra staggered out of the car and the Girl tackled his knees, almost bowling him over. “You’re back!”

“Look what the proverbial cat dragged in!” Fun appeared and headbutted Party in the shoulder. “Where’ve you losers been?”

Jet strode over to give Kobra a whack upside the head, but he seemed more relieved than angry. “What possessed you, running off like that again?”

Kobra tried to dodge behind the Girl. “Ow. Party started it.”

The Girl looked up at Kobra, arms still wrapped around his legs. “Your face looks weird,” she said, accusingly.

Kobra, who by the feel of it was sporting a bruised jaw and a lovely black eye, just shrugged and patted her springy hair. “I bet.”

“Did you guys bring me anything from Tommy’s?”

Tommy’s? Kobra’s brow furrowed. Oh, was that where Party had been coming from yesterday? It felt like years ago.

The Girl was still waiting for an answer. Kobra exchanged glances with Party, who fought back a grin.

“Well, no...” Kobra said finally, deadpan. “But you wouldn’t believe what we’ve got in the trunk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just needed to wrap things up! Quick epilogue up next...


	10. Epilogue

_(“Holy shit, is it my birthday? You shouldn’t have,” Fun said, cracking his knuckles with relish. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised you haven’t killed it already.”_

_“Fun! Be good.” Party had to warn him strictly. “No murder. No torture. It’s about sending a message.”_

_“A message? You crazy? It’s gonna send a message straight to our dear friend Madam Director that we’re still runnin, that’s what message it’s gonna send.”_

_“Maybe not,” Jet said. He grinned. “By the time we’re done with it, who’s gonna believe a word it says?”_

_“Ooh, Jet, you’re evil.” Ghoul laughed. “Okay, fine. C’mon boys, we have a lot of work to do.”)_

 

On the outskirts of the city, a battery-powered boombox sat in the sand. “Another One Bites The Dust” blasted at full volume from its crappy speakers.

It blasted “Another One Bites The Dust” on loop for 13 hours and 7 minutes before a drac patrol finally came by and heard it. They stopped and looked.

Next to the boombox was a scraggly tree.

And neatly trussed to the tree, with shockingly uncomplimentary graffiti spraypainted all over its once-white uniform and generally looking like it had been caught in a glittery technicolor hurricane, was a very pissed-off Scarecrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and all your lovely comments, hope you enjoyed! Hop over to kryptidkat.tumblr.com sometime and say hello! (Or just start yelling headcanons at me, that works too XD)


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